


no other name (falling off my lips)

by TheBashfulPoet



Series: The Sound of EXY [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, SN&E Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 08:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16657627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBashfulPoet/pseuds/TheBashfulPoet
Summary: The piano was never his instrument, not in any way that mattered at least. No, it was always Andrew’s, a piece of the drummer only few got to see and even fewer knew how deep that part of him went. Maybe that’s why he sits alone tucked away in the empty piano room at Fox Records. It’s the only way he can feel close to him.





	no other name (falling off my lips)

**Author's Note:**

> So like I was listening to this song right and was hit with the sudden urge to write some angsty Andreil from my fic Something Nothing & Everything.... enjoy?

            Neil sits in the empty studio and stares at the ivory keys beneath his fingertips. They trip and glide over the white and black bars but never press down hard enough to make a sound — almost too afraid of what will happen if he does. The piano was never his instrument, not in any way that mattered at least. No, it was always Andrew’s, a piece of the drummer only few got to see and even fewer knew how deep that part of him went. Maybe that’s why he sits alone tucked away in the empty piano room at Fox Records. It’s the only way he can feel close to him.

            It’s stupid. Neil shouldn’t need an instrument to feel close to the person who made him real — to the person that breathed Neil Josten to life and told him to stay. But the fact is that Neil hasn’t seen or heard from Andrew in almost two months. Not since Andrew had stormed out of their room after the biggest argument they’ve ever had. He could still hear the ringing of the door slamming closed and the rev of the engine and Andrew’s sleek black car peels out of the driveway and races down their quiet suburban neighborhood.

            At first, he just thought that Andrew needed to cool his head — take his space where he needed it after Neil pushed too hard for something he wasn’t ready to give. It was fine. Neil couldn’t begrudge him that, especially when he found his own blood boiling at the mere thought of looking at his boyfriend’s seemingly indifferent face after that particular argument — after he tore himself open only to have it shoved back in his face. _He was fine_. So, he pulled on a pair of running shoes and lost himself in the streets surrounding their home and city until the sun sets and the sky darkens too much for him to continue. When he gets back, Andrew is still nowhere to be found and his phone is silent. That should have been his first sign that something was wrong. Andrew may disappear from time to time but he always texted Neil, even if just to tell him to leave him alone. The silence was deafening.

            But Neil didn’t heed that whisper in the back of his head, still too angry at himself and Andrew to think any more of it. It was a big argument. Maybe Andrew just needed more time to figure his own thoughts out; god knew Neil still did. He showered and went to bed, ignoring how the bed felt too big with Andrew there on the other side of the mattress and too cold without the warmth of his back pressed against a broad chest. When his eyes closed he thought to himself that tomorrow he would talk to him again. That he would fix this between them.

            He didn’t know that tomorrow would never come. That he would wait day after day with no response from Andrew, no call, no text, nothing. He tried calling only to find that the number couldn’t be reached at this time. Then Neil really started panicking. Clutching his phone tightly in a fist, he rushes out of their room and flies down the stairs until he’s skidding into the kitchen where Nicky is cooking. The tall man startles, nearly tossing the contents of the pan onto the ground as he jumps.

            “Jesus Christ Neil!” he gasps, putting the pan down and turning the flame on low. “What’s-”

            “Have you heard from Andrew?”

            His brows furrow, “Not since Friday. I just thought that he was off on one of his self-isolated road trips.”

            “Friday, you’re sure?” Neil urges him.

            “Yeah. He sent a text saying that he was taking a break and not to look for him.”

            Neil runs through his hair. “Fuck.”

            “What’s going on?” Worry starts to mar his face, but Neil is already turning away, running to the only other person who Andrew would have contacted.

            He finds Aaron sitting on the couch with his phone glued to his hand like always. So irrational part of him wonders if that was Andrew on the other end of the screen no matter the fact that Neil knows the twin have texted each other only a handful of times in the two years he’s known them. Still, he wonders.

            “Are you talking to Andrew?”

            “No.” Aaron doesn’t even bother to look up from his screen as he types away at a message.

            “Are you sure?”

            He sneers, “I think I would know if I was texting my brother or not.”

            Neil wants to tear his hair out. Or Aaron’s. “When did you hear from him last?”

            “God what’s with the third degree? Go bug someone else.”

            “ _Aaron_ ,” Neil all but growls, “When did you last hear from him?”

            “Fuck you.”

            Neil dives for him then and he would have made it if not for Nicky coming out of the kitchen hot on Neil’s tail and yanking him back just in time. Aaron finally looks away from his phone and stares at Neil like he’s finally lost his mind. Maybe he had.

            “Neil calm down!” Nicky tries to push him further away, but he pulls at his arms.

            “I swear to fucking god Aaron, if you do not tell me right now, I’ll fucking kill you.”

            Aaron gives him a bored look. “What did you lose your boyfriend? Maybe he finally got tired of you.”

            Neil almost breaks free.

            “Jesus Aaron really?” Nicky sighs exasperatedly. “Kevin! Get your ass in here before you have to find a new singer!”

            Kevin ambles in from upstairs, looking for all intents and purposes like he just crawled out of bed despite it being nearly 11 am. “What the fuck is going on now?”

            “Well as you can clearly see I need your help!”

            Kevin looks between Neil and Aaron before turning around and going back upstairs.

            “KEVIN!”

            In Nicky’s moment of distraction, Neil breaks free from his grasp and grabs Aaron, yanking him off the couch and hauling him so they meet eye to eye. “If you do not tell me what I want to know right now-”

            “You’ll what?” he sneers, pulling at Neil’s grip.

            Neil only tightens it. “I was the son of a serial killer that liked to torture people for hours before he granted them even a thought towards mercy. I could kill you in ways that you could only image.”

            Aaron pales and the sneer slips slightly.

            “Neil,” Nicky whispers, voice shaking.

            He ignores him. “Now when did you last talk to him?”

            For a moment, he doesn’t think Aaron will answer him — that his stubborn nature and ill regard for Neil would keep his mouth silent. To his surprise, he answers. “Yesterday.”

            Neil lets him go, the single word enough to open the world beneath his feet and leave him feeling. “What?”

            “I said I heard from him yesterday. He texted to say that he’s going to be gone for a bit and to bug Renee if I needed anything since he wouldn’t be reachable.”

            Neil’s world bottoms out. Andrew was gone. _Gone_. And he left his family to Renee, not Neil. Trusted _Renee_ to keep them safe _not Neil_. The message hit him like a ton of bricks: painful and clear. Andrew couldn’t trust Neil to do that job anymore, nor did he want him to.

            Nick was trying to say something to him, but the words fell on deafened ears. All he could hear was that slamming door and the rev of an engine. Over and over again. He’s flying out the door before he even registers moving — feet slapping concrete and sending shocks up his shin until it becomes painful. His lungs heave and constrict in his chest for the too little air squeezing past his throat. This time even when the sky darkens, he runs and runs until the sun peaks over the horizon again and he has to crawl to keep moving. When he gets home their bedroom is still empty and his phone is silent.

            No one hears from Andrew for two months. Kevin is pissed, seething about the fact that they had to halt the progress on their next album with their drummer missing. Nicky looks worried and flickers between mother-henning the band and locking himself in his room to skype with Erik in hushed German. The Foxes range between worried (Dan, Matt, and Wymack) and apathetic (Seth and Allison) with only Renee giving him a sad pitiful look whenever he catches her eyes. Even Aaron starts to look a bit worried, but Neil can’t bring himself to care.

 Staying in the house hurts — hurts more than anything his father or Lola ever did to him as a child or adult. He spent hours staring at their empty bed from a spot where he curled up on the floor since he couldn’t bring himself to sleep in it alone. The glass doors to the balcony became impassable and the empty spot in the garage opened a pit in his chest he thought he long since filled. After the first month, he gives up and moves onto Matt and Dan’s couch after the two of them offer him a place in their new apartment together.

            He stares at the keys again, this time pressing one until a soft ping fills the room. The sound breaks something in him and he presses another. And then another and another until the room fills with a simple melody.

            The piano was never his, but Andrew taught him some of the basics during the late nights when neither of them could sleep. It was never anything more than a couple of chords here or there or how to move his hands across the keys — even if they never moved half as fast as his. He loved those nights. Loved seeing Andrew lose himself in the music that once meant so much to him, even if it meant that no one else would.

            He plays the [melody ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=52nfjRzIaj8)over again, and then another time, adding a few complexities as he goes along until he can feel the hint of a song scratching at the back of his mind. His fingers fly and the music twists itself into words in his throat until he starts humming along trying to decipher them. When he opens his mouth, the words come pouring out. 

 _Wish I could, I could've said goodbye_  
_I would've said what I wanted to_  
 _Maybe even cried for you_

He didn’t know. He _couldn’t_ have known that when Andrew left he would never get to say goodbye. Even when he thought he had seconds left, he always knew he would spend them saying goodbye and now that he can’t-

  
 _If I knew, it would be the last time_  
 _I would've_ broke _my heart in two_  
 _Tryin' to save a part of you_

            He should have kept his mouth shut. Should have never said a damn thing about it. But he was so _tired_. Tired of lying. Tired of pretending that he was nothing to Andrew. Tired of people thinking that they were nothing.

_Don't want to feel another touch_   
_Don't wanna start another fire_   
_Don't wanna know another kiss_   
_No other name falling off my lips_

            He didn’t want anyone else. Didn’t want to pretend that he _could_ want anyone else. It was just Andrew. It would always be Andrew. No one else. Never anyone else.

_To another stranger_   
_Or let another day begin_   
_Won't even let the sunlight in_   
_No, I'll never love again_

            And he ruined it all. Ruined it because he didn’t want to hide anymore. He wanted the world to know that he was Andrew’s, even if Andrew would never be his. He wanted to scream it to the world, to take Andrew’s hand in his own and face all the shit the world threw at them. Because with Andrew at his side he felt like he could take on anything. But he pushed too hard.

_I won't I won't I swear I can't  
I wish I could but I just won't_

            He did the one thing he promised he never would do, he asked for too much. Too much and too fast for what Andrew was capable of giving him. Of what Andrew _wanted_ to give to him. But he grew greedy.  Greedy enough to want for something Andrew had told him from the beginning that he could never have. And yet he pushed, ruining it for good.

_I'll never love again_

            His fingers slip and bang against the keys, the sharp noise jarring and dissonant to the soft melody still lingering in the air. He moves to start again, but his vision blurs with tears and a choked sob fills his throat. Hands curl into fists and bang onto the keys, filling the room with the same discord and disarray that echoes in his chest.

            “Oh Neil,” Matt whispers from his spot in the doorway, but Neil can’t bring himself to look at him (too ashamed of the tears being spilled from his own doing). He feels a heavy hand fall softly on his shoulder, gently guiding him into a solid stomach. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

            Neil doesn’t say a word even after hours pass and Matt drives him back home. He doesn’t go back to the studio again.

            Two days later Neil’s phone pings with a text message. It’s the middle of the night and his phone sits on the coffee table just out of his reach, the bright light from the screen cutting a path of blue light in the otherwise darkened room. For a second he debates letting it sit there unanswered, almost positive it’s Nicky trying to cheer him up or ask when he’ll come home (as if he still had a home there without Andrew). But that same stupid part of his brain holds out hope that maybe even now it will be Andrew.

            It takes a few tries, but he manages to slide the phone off the table and into his hands, eyes squinting as the bright light shifts to blare in his face rather than the ceiling. He almost drops it when the name registers in his mind. _Andrew Minyard_. He stops, looks again, looks away, and then check again. The same still stares back at him. With shaky fingers, he swipes the screen open and clicks on the message.

            There are no words, no explanations for where he has gone or why he left without a fucking word, just a simple link sitting in a small blue bubble with a still of a black title card. He clicks on the video only for it to open in his YouTube app. It was uploaded on an anonymous account and the thumbnail was a black background with the words _For Him_ written in italic script. Neil hits play and waits for it to finish buffering.

            It’s a video of himself sitting in that empty piano room at Fox Records as he belts out the painful melody that took him over. The video is shot from his back so you couldn’t see the tears falling down his cheeks but the waver in his voice gave him away all the same, each intake a break stuttering slightly and his body trembling as it sways back and for. It captures most of the song ending with that same jarring key. Just before the video cuts out there is a soft “Oh Neil” that tells him just who is responsible for this latest video. His eyes dart down to the view count to see that it’s reached millions.

            The phone buzzes again, this time with a single word. _Studio_.

            Neil is off the couch and out the door in seconds, not bothering with even shoes or a coat despite the chilly autumn evening air. He runs faster and harder than he’s had to in a long time but its all worth it when he bursts through those doors to see Andrew standing there in the lounge. Dark circles rest under his eyes and tense shoulders betray his calm demeanor even as he turns to meet Neil’s gaze.

            “You’re here,” Neil breathes, feeling like it’s the first full breath he’s had in months.

            Andrew nods.

            “You left.” Neil continues, stepping further into the room until they are less than a foot apart.

            He nods again.

            Neil wants to reach out and touch him, but he doesn’t — too afraid that if he does then Andrew will disappear again. “And you’re back? For good?”

            This time there is a hesitation before he nods tightly, chin jerking like the question left him stilted and unhinged.

“Yes or no?” A quiet yes falls from those lips in a raspy voice from disuse and Neil feels something click into place. He falls into Andrew’s space, slotting their foreheads together and tangling his fingers in those soft blonde locks. Something else clicks into place.

            “You left.” It comes out choked and small, even as he pulls away to meet Andrew’s eyes. “ _You left_.”

            “Yes.” He says it simply because it was. He left Neil behind.

            “ _You left_. Without a word or a text for _two months_.” This time Andrew didn’t bother replying. “What the fuck Andrew? What the actual fuck.”

            Neil pulls away more firmly, anger boiling in his chest as the shock wears from his system. “ _What the actual fuck._ ”

            Andrew crosses his arms. “What do you want me to say? I left.”

            “ _Exactly!_ ” It comes out near hysterical. “ _You left_. Just like that. You asked me to stay and then you _left me_.”

            Andrew’s jaw ticks but he says nothing.

            “What was I supposed to do Andrew?” Neil grasps for understanding. “We had one argument and then you just disappeared for two months without a single fucking word. _What was I supposed to do?!_ Did you even plan to come back.”

            “I don’t know.”

            “ _You don’t know?_ ” Neil seethes, “Fuck that you do know. Were you going to come back?”

            Andrew meets his gaze head-on. “I don’t know.”

            Neil deflates, knowing the real answer. “You weren’t.” Andrew says nothing. “God, I don’t even get a reason why?”

            “Why what Neil,” Andrew sighs.

            “Why we have one argument about me wanting to go public about us and you drop off the fucking earth!” Neil explodes walking away. “Why that, Drew. Why fucking that.”

            Andrew is silent for a beat, then two. “Because I can’t give you that.”

            “Then why didn’t you just say-”

            “I _did_ , but you pushed. You pushed and I could see that you would keep pushing even if it took years until I was ready.”

            “That’s right. I would have. I would have waited until the end of fucking time for that, so why push me away?” Neil’s voice is raw against his throat and he can feel tears sting the corners of his eyes but he pushes on. “ _Why._ ”

            “Because you deserve better.”

            Neil blinks. “Excuse me?”

            But Andrew is done talking. “You heard me.”

            “No, I don’t think I did.” Neil whips around, “Because it sounded like you just said that I deserve better. Whatever the fuck that means.”

            Andrew remains silent. Neil explodes.

            “Fuck what I deserve. Fuck what everyone _including_ you thinks I deserve. I decide that.”

            “Shut up.”

            “No, I won’t. And you know what? I fucking deserve to be happy. I deserve to have someone that makes me feel like I’m an actual person. I deserve someone that makes me feel as alive as music does. _That’s_ what I deserve, Andrew.”

            His jaw locks, “Then what are you waiting for?”

            “I’m waiting for him to say that he deserves that too. Because I can’t fight that battle for him as much as I fucking want to.” He crosses the space between them. “I fucking love you, Drew. More than I’ve ever thought I could love another person and I just want you to love you too. No more of this ‘deserve’ bullshit. Decide for yourself.”

            They are inches apart now, breath intermingling and burning amber meeting icy blue.

            “Yes or no, Andrew?” The question is soft off his lips.

            A moment. Then two. Then three. Finally, “Yes.”

            Andrew’s lips slot against Neil’s and it feels like coming home. It feels like first burning him alive and water drowning his every breath until all he can taste and think of is Andrew’s lips and the thundering beat of his chest matching the one in Andrews. They stay like that for eternity or maybe a few seconds before they must pull away for air, neither straying far from the other.

            “Don’t leave again,” Neil whispers into the space between them. “Don’t leave me again.”

            Andrew doesn’t answer, simply presses their lips together until his head becomes dizzy from the lack of oxygen. Hours later they would curl up on the lounge’s couch, Andrew pressed to the back cushions with Neil half pressed to his side and half on his chest. The lights are dimmed and the steady beat of Andrew’s heart lulls him to sleep no matter how long he tries to hold onto consciousness. Just before he slips away, Andrew’s arms tighten around Neil’s torso and he feels the rumbles of his chest as he speaks.

            It sounded a lot like, “I promise.”


End file.
